


Wednesday Morning

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Challenge Response, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-13
Updated: 2007-09-13
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: First steps are the hardest.  Set in Lorne's teen years.  Written for the ironman7 challenge.Prompt: Ain't it hard when you discover that, he wasn't really where it's at, after he took from you everything he could steal. How does it feel?





	Wednesday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

He packed carefully - he'd always been somewhat meticulous about his clothes. He folded them each a certain way, t-shirts efficiently reduced to exacting rectangles, underwear into smaller squares, socks matched and rolled together in pairs, pants a series of blue-denim and khaki-coloured rolls. Things wrinkled less that way - if he were careful, they didn't wrinkle at all. It was something he could control.

 

He rearranged the top layer so it lay more evenly.

 

"Will you at least say something??"

 

The words were harsh and angry; familiar. He folded the top of the bag inward, catching up the zipper. It rumbled through the heavy fabric as he closed the bag.

 

"If you're waiting for an apology, you're gonna have to be listening to me before you can hear it."

 

He was tired; suddenly, completely, tired. It was too far to the front door, too far down the hallway, too far to the door of the room. He wasn't going to make it. 

 

He swallowed, picking up the bag. It wasn't much - but it was everything that was his. He breathed out, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. Trophies, pictures, his diploma, the car keys - all he had to trade to have them was his entire life.

 

He glanced at his watch.

 

The first step was the hardest. He made it, then another, just as hard. He was at the door.

 

"If you leave, you can't come back."

 

"I won't," he finally answered, his voice hard and rough from silence.

 

He pulled the door closed behind him, shutting off the multimillion dollar house and the perfectly manicured lawn.


End file.
